


A Battle Well Lost

by queenowl



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dedue Week (Fire Emblem), Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, If you SQUINT reAL hard u might see my Bydue pop out but you'd have to squint HARD, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22148110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenowl/pseuds/queenowl
Summary: //Written for Dedue Week | Day 2 Prompt: Battle//As the shield of his Highness, Dedue Molinaro is exceptionally good at keeping others at arms distance. But there are times when he battles against the desire to draw close to those whom he shares a house.It is a battle he fights after each mission, watching his classmates gathered around the fire.It is a battle that Mercedes von Martritz is convinced that she will make him lose.
Relationships: Blue Lions Students & Dedue Molinaro, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Dedue Molinaro, Mentions of Dedue Molinaro's Family, Mercedes von Matritz & Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	A Battle Well Lost

Dedue stands vigil on the edge of the camp, soldiers and students alike before him. The fight has finished, his class victorious against the bandits it has been set against and it is now, for him that the true battle begins--as it does every night, here by the campfire.

He can see the other members of the Blue Lion house gathered around the fire, and most importantly among them, his Highness Dimitri, laughing loudly at the words of another student at his size. Glancing over his shoulder and noting his intent gaze, Dimitri waves him forwards, but he shakes his head firmly. As much as his Highness wishes for him to, joining the circle of the other students in the role of a companion... it is much too relaxed for the duties he has been entrusted with and he _knows_ better than to fraternize with future distractions. And yet.

...And yet he wishes to join in their camaraderie, a special ache in his chest that he can only ignore as best he can after each battle as he watches the rest of his students bond with each other, chatting in the warmth of the flickering flames.

In the monastery, it is easy to preoccupy himself with tasks. He cares for the flowers in the greenhouse, patches the clothes of the orphans his Highness enjoys training in the sword from time to time, cooks for his class during his week of cooking duty, organizes and ensures that his room is tidy as to have better surroundings for study--amongst a whole host of tasks. They are all things he does to be alone and not feel as though he is isolating himself in spite of his reality.

In all honesty, these tasks have not been lonesome lately... The professor--though in truth, he is starting to wonder if he should avoid her too, as not to find himself enjoying her company--has run into him often, and to his shock, not by accident. She seeks him out, often with gifts. A watering can there. Flowers and seeds... Even tea parties. They are all things that he cannot help but admit he enjoys, and to boot, she does not require much of him by ways of words.  
  
He can only choose to blame her then, for this strange desire to sit amongst the classmates he has more or less done so well at keeping as arm's reach.

Desiring the company of others... Dedue knows he should not feel this way. For all of the tales that his Highness has told him of the man that now goes by Gilbert Pronislav, so-called valiance personified--and for all the disappointment he felt when he finally met the sad, tired old man who paled in comparison to his Highness' idealized descriptions--he cannot help but feel that he is some way, failing. How could that lesser man manage to cut off such feelings as need for companionship, down to his own blood relations, while Dedue still struggles to avoid breaking with his fellow classmates?

He is the vassal of the heir to the throne now. He ought not to be distracted by such desires for companionship. He ought to be, instead, keeping watch for any unsavory elements that could bring danger to the camp and--Dedue notes rustling behind him and tenses, turning sharply towards the sound, his hand lightly resting on his axe--

"Oh, Dedue!" He is caught off guard for a moment by the sight of woman standing there, her long pale hair cascading over her shoulder in a waterfall of glossy strands. "Did I manage to surprise you?"

 _'Good evening, Mercedes.'_ He does not say the friendly greeting, even though it lies on his tongue. He does allow himself to lose the battle of self-control that he wages with his own self. "You did not, no." An almost truth, but not quite. In a way, yes, she _did_ surprise him--not with her poor excuse for stealth, but rather with her unintrusive, yet noticeably persistent approach. This is not the first time he has found himself in her company. He doesn't expect to receive the attention of Mercedes of all people. Granted, he could not quite understand why she bothered to take notice of him at all, knowing his status as a man of Duscur. He does not remind her, instead glowering in the darkness of the night, the flame against his back and obscuring his face.

He pretends that he is only saving his breath and that she will not listen anyway... but there is that fighting thought in his chest that does not wish to be alone, and the man he is inside hungers for the company of a friends. He rejects it, turning away to return his attentions to his royal charge. He cannot lose this battle. He has done well not to forge bonds thus far, but... he must stay vigilant.

Mercedes looks at him with knowing eyes.

"Why don't you join them? It seems cold and lonely here on the edge of the camp." In all honesty... there is no part of him that does not want to. It is not an easy burden to bear, to be a shield, and sometimes he feels as though his heart is so brittle that if it were tapped _just_ right, he would shatter altogether. But, he reasons, if such a thing as lacking companions could shatter him, than perhaps he is unworthy of being his Highness' shield. The idea alone is motivating, but right now...

Right now, he fights.

"I am not cold." Her expression doesn't change and, for some reason, Dedue finds himself trying to convince her further, perhaps because he is trying to convince himself as well. "This temperature is nothing--Duscur's winter nights were much colder." He does not mean to mention his homeland as he rebuffs her lightly, and to his chagrin, she only gathers her shawl around her shoulders and does not accept his answer for what it is.

"Colder, yes. But I doubt the nights were as lonely." She laughs behind her hand, then smiles up at the younger man. "Am I right?"

He doesn't reply at first. She _is_ right, of course. As far north as they once were, winters in Duscur had been harsh, yet he cannot help but remember the warm feeling of kneeling in front of his youngest cousin and typing her scarf around her neck as they prepared to march out into the snow to skate on the icy winter lake. Gioia was always the least fussy about getting ready. By contrast, his sister, Chiara, would be out the door the moment the first dot of snow touched the ground, Linza, the cousin closest in age to her trailing behind.

The younger set of twins, Nestra and Gracina would be whispering to each other by the fireplace, only partially dressed while the older twins planned exactly who would be victims of their snow missiles. If he tried to help Gracina or Nestra, they would protest, but... but the youngest... Gioia... she would look up at him with large, bright eyes as he made sure to bundle her up.

He never felt cold then as he held her hands and made sure she did not slip and fall.

He never felt cold then, even when his teeth began to chatter, at the sounds of his family laughing and shouting around him. His father nudging him to stand somewhere other than the sidelines.

His mother gliding across the pond with a grace that he had long since learned to imitate.

Before he knows it, Dedue is answering. "Yes, Mercedes. You certainly are."

"I can understand that." She looks away from him, staring at the fire from by his side. "When I was younger, my baby brother would often complain of cold fingers. I would hold his hands in mine to warm them up, see? And it felt just wonderful. But here... the only family we have are our friends, right?" Dedue glances at her, then straightens his back staunchly.

"I have no need for friends, and the only family I possess has long since met with the soil."

"Is that how you feel?" She asks the question lightly. "I wonder if I asked Dimitri of his feelings if he would answer the same." Dedue's expression shifts but he says nothing in reply. His relationship with the prince is complex, and he cannot deny that they have endured many things together... but at the end of the day, he has a debt to pay, and a goal in mind. Deep bonds... long-lasting friendships... they are in odds with his end goal: to wholeheartedly ensure the prince's survival without distraction. To ensure that no harm would come to the boy who made him a promise, so long ago, to restore what was lost under the boots of soldiers.

If the sacrifice Dedue must make is to keep his distance, then he is all too willing to forsake the warmth and camaraderie of comrade. And, a small part of him whispers, he is all to _unwilling_ to lose everything all over again.

He cannot lose everything he loves, he reasons, if he loves nothing. He cannot lose everything if there is nothing for him to lose.

Mercedes notes the stoic expression on Dedue's face. She cannot pinpoint quite what he is thinking. They haven't been together long enough for a friendship to form, and it hasn't been for lack of trying. She wonders if she is bothering him, so she turns her face upwards to meet his eyes. "Well then, I hope you don't mind me trying to get to know you anyway."

His confusion is clear. _Why_ waste her efforts? He says as much aloud. "With what motive?"

"It isn't obvious?"

It _isn't_ obvious, no, and as he puzzles on it, he can't help but feel like he's losing the battle he has waged for so many months since he first began to attend the Officers' Academy. She's making him curious in a way that he has strictly sworn off since he became a vassal, and he cannot help but to think on it.

His mind races to find reasons as to why she could possibly be so invested in getting to know him in spite of the obvious--his being of Duscur. He wonders grimly. Is it because he is at the prince's side--because yes, there _have_ been students who viewed him as a shortcut into his Highness' good graces... so he begins there, slowly. "If you wish to be close to His Highness, you only need speak with him directly. He seeks to know his subjects well, so there is no need to--" Mercedes laughs aloud, cutting him off.

"I apologize for interrupting Dedue, but I can make friends with his Highness all on my own. Besides, you keep saying this phrase. 'No need.' Have you ever thought that maybe you don't need friends, but I do?" Her smile is kind, even as she speaks with soothing lilt that tells him to accept her friendship, her kindness. He falters for a moment. "You seem to have caught me, Dedue. It seems I'm the selfish one, after all. What do you say to that?"

What does he say?

What _should_ he say?

Dedue's firmly set lips part slightly as he chooses carefully. He must be... neutral. He must not let himself succumb to her kindness. Not when he is not in a position to accept it. Not when... it could only hurt her in the long run. "I... believe I would question your mindfulness of your reputation." Her dark blue eyes widen.

"Reputation? Well, you don't have to worry about a thing like that for me. A little church girl like me doesn't have much of one--and besides, I think being known as the friend of such a kind person as you would be an excellent reputation to have." She glances up at him. "Oh! It seems I've shown how selfish I am again, wanting to make friends only with those I find to be kind. Are you sure you don't mind?"

She thinks he is kind? He doesn't know to feel about it but... perhaps someone who is also kind is the kind of person who could accept him. Perhaps he...

He feels his resolve wavering and is unable to stop himself from answer uncertainly.

"I... don't mind?" Another battle lost, except it feels so good... so comforting to do so. He decides then that while he is unsure of what type of person she is, Dedue can say for a certainty what she isn't, and he is sure that she is hardly selfish. Perhaps he should investigate.

Yes.... just investigate and that is all.

"Oh, really? Then I suppose it might not hurt for me to be a little more selfish..." She trails off, thoughtfully. "Would you mind telling me a story?"

"A story?" His expression folds together, his brows drawing close together.

"Yes! I don't know about Duscur, but in Faerghus, telling stories around a campfire is tradition. Preferably terrifying ones." She smiles in a way that matches that very adjective, and inwardly, Dedue feels... amused. And then worried. Laughter? In his heart?

He does not need laughter to be a shield. He frets for a moment inwardly as Mercedes takes a moment to think. "We're... a bit far from the fire, I suppose, so we can step away from the norm as well. Do you have any stories from Duscur? They don't have to be scary, though I do love them so." He draws his eyes away from her to stare at Dimitri's back. The mention of Duscur is like steel to his spine. He feels his resolve reinforced tenfold as the laughter dies, his eyes cool.

"No one cares to hear tales of Duscur, Mercedes." He tries to say it gently as she is being with him in that way he is so unused to now, but his words come out flatly, like a dropped weight. She doesn't seem to mind and Dedue is unsure of whether or not that makes him feel relieved. It shouldn't, and yet...

He is pleased that she has not yet left.

Dedue has always been the eldest son. Taking care of his sister, and then his cousins, and now, in his own way, he cares for the prince. But to be taken care of... he understand intrinsically, perhaps in a way he will never be able to reveal to her, just how much of an older sister she is. Did he once look at the younger girls of his home constantly underfoot with such kindness?

She snaps him out of his thoughts with a well-posed question.

"Is that so?" Instead of frowning at him, her eyelids lower shut as she clasps her hands together lightly. "Then perhaps I should ask the goddess to change my name is Mercedes 'No One' von Martritz." She looks straight up at him. "For it seems that I care. I'm sure the other members of our house would as well. Perhaps we could ask them." At the idea of leaving his post, Dedue grimaces automatically in reply. "You don't wish to?"

He doesn't want to lose his resolve, no. Doesn't want chance being rejected as he so often was in Fhirdiad. There are no stones to cast here as there are in those streets, but he has seen the way that some... in his own house look at him. He is not so certain that his presence will be wanted there.

"I'd rather not be a bother, no." Even if he hadn't been on a dedicated mission to avoid forging close bonds with the other members of his class, the thought is still true..

"Is that the only reason? Because if so..." at that she smiles brightly, taking his arm. "Then I can assure you that you aren't a bother at all. Come now! I won't take no for an answer." And she means it. He has no room to protest otherwise, and he allows himself to be dragged closer to the flame. As they drawn nearer to the light, he can see the other students noting Mercedes' arm looped around his. He starts to pull away, drawing her notice.

He is hardly ashamed to be noticed at her side--he hardly knows the girl, after all, but he cannot be so comfortable standing at it when it draws the notice of so many others in the camp. Attention, he has learned in Fhirdiad, is a dangerous animal that bites and claws him for daring to stand at the side of those he has not the right to. It is not a lesson he needs to relearn. "Mercedes. It seems the other students have noticed my company." She smiles, but does not draw away.

"So they have! You always mind your surroundings, Dedue. And you also mind your business very well. Unlike others I know of." She says the lines without concealment, earning at least a few embarrassed glances away, and as a result, Dedue feels... lost.

Or maybe he should say, feels as though he _has_ lost. Entirely.

Folding her hands together, Mercedes clears her throat at the edge of the fire. "Annette, Ashe, make space for Dedue to sit." At the sound of Dedue's name, Dimitri turns a wide-eyed stare towards Dedue.

"So... you will join us at last then, then?" Dedue stares into Dimitri's face, guilt weighing in his chest so heavily that he can scarcely breath. He resists the urge to say that he is there simply to monitor and instead... looks around the other faces at the campfire. Not all of them are _pleased_ to see him, but... he glances at Mercedes and the red-headed girl who is scrambling to shift over and make enough space for his large physique. At the grey haired boy who is dusting off the space for him.

Perhaps not all of them have to welcome him with open arms. As is, Dedue feels included enough.

Slowly, hesitantly, he lowers himself down into the low seat. The seat that they have prepared for... for him. Perhaps overwhelmed, Dedue's voice does not come forth at once, so he merely nods in reply.

 _Yes,_ he thinks. _Yes, I will._

Satisfied, the surprise softens into something more neutral as Dimitri reaches out to briefly touch him on the shoulder in welcome. "Excellent, then. Mercedes, we've been waiting for you to return. The last part of your story was _captivating_. So, who was leaving those footprints on the ceiling?" Dedue looks up at Mercedes in surprise.

 _She was already telling one?_ Then... did she do all that, just to draw him out? Was having him seated amongst them her plan all along?

Mercedes lets out a soft chuckle, her face taking on an eerie light as she smiles brightly, shadows cast across her soft features and making them that much harsher. "Ah, yes..." As she begins to tell the tale again, Dedue cannot help but note the way that everyone is staring at Mercedes with a mixture of fear and wonder.

He considers. Is that the way he once looked when his father told stories in the night around the fireplace?

He feels the fire warm his hands and feet and imagines Gracina and Nestra sharing the space on his lap, listening with intent while Taran leaned against his shoulder, pretending not to be afraid while clinging onto the hem of his night shirt. They are moments that wkll never return... and he wonders if there will ever be a day when he will feel comfortable enough to lounge with people he trusts as family pressed against him at all sides with bated breath, waiting to hear the magic of a story teller.

He cannot imagine anything better than that precious experience. But...

_But..._

He looks around himself.

_But this will do._

**Author's Note:**

> Hehehe. I tried to be a bit unconventional with these prompts interpretation--doesn't an internal battle suit my writing that much more anyway?
> 
> :^) I hope you guys like all this relationship/friendship fic! I'm trying my hand out at it because it's supposed to be Dedue Week, not Bydue week, but I couldn't help but to allude to my favorite couple, haha. You can definitely set this before An Instrument of Fate. This is like... story 0 of Bydue. Or maybe story -2 or something.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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